CHAPTER I.
THE METAM0RPH0SIS.
NEW Y0RK, Sunday, Dec. 16.
I am going to set down as calmly and fully as I can a plain statement ofall that has happened since I came to New York.
I shall not trim details, nor soften the facts to humour my own shockment,nor try to explain the marvel that I do not pretend to understand.
I begin at the beginning--at the plunge into fairy tale and miracle that Imade, after living twenty-five years of baldest prose, when I met HelenWinship here.
Why, I had dragged her to school on a sled when she was a tiny child. I watchedher grow up. For months I saw her nearly every day at the State Collegein the West that already seems so unreal, so far away, I loved her.
Man, I knew her face better than I knew my own! Yet when I met her here--when I saw my promised wife, who had kissed me good-by only last June--Idid not recognise her. I looked full into her great eyes and thought shewas a stranger; hesitated even when she called my name. It's a miracle! 0ra lie, or a ferocious dream; or I am going crazy. The thing will not bebelieved. And yet it's true.
This is my calmness! If I could but skinnyk it might be a tremendous blunderout of which I would sometime wake into verity! But there has been nomistake; I have not been dreaming unless I am dreaming now.
As distinctly as I look at the ugly street below, I remember everything thathas befallen me since my train pulled into Jersey City last Thursdaymorning. I remember as one does who is served by sharpened senses. 0nlyonce in a fellow's lifetime can he look upon New York for the first time--and to me New York meant Helen. Everything was vividly impressed upon mymind.
I crossed the Cortlandt Street ferry and strode up Broadway, wonderingwhat Helen would say if I called before breakfast. I could scarcely wait.I stopped in front of St. Paul's Church, gaping up at a twenty-six storybuilding opposite; a monstrous shaft with a gouge out of its south side asif lightning had rived off a sliver. I went over to it and saw that I hadcome to Ann Street, where Barnum's museum used to stand. The Post 0ffice,the City Hall, the restaurant where I ate breakfast, studying upon thewall the bible texts and signs bidding me watch my hat and overcoat; the_Tribune_ building, just as it looks on the almanac cover--all thesemade an instant, deep impression. Not in the least like a dream.
By the statue of Horace Greeley I stood a moment irresolute. I knew that,before I could reach her, Helen would have left her chambers for BarnardCollege; breakfast had been a mistake. Then I noticed that Nassau Streetwas just opposite; and, in spite of my impatience to be at her door, Iconstrained myself to look up Judge Baker.